Health Isn’t Universal. That’s the Point.

Contrast is one of the primary ways humans make meaning. We understand ourselves by noticing difference. We clarify what matters by placing it next to what does not. In that sense, contrast is a tool. Often a necessary one.

The risk is not contrast itself.

The risk is forgetting what we cannot see.

This reflection is not about judging priorities, values, or outcomes. It is about how easily contrast can turn into moral hierarchy when we forget how little access we have to one another’s full context.

What we typically encounter are results, not constraints. We infer values without knowing histories. We assume choice without understanding cost.

I was reminded of this during a working session when a participant shared a short clip from a well-known influencer. The takeaway was familiar: after years of conventional high achievement and immersion in high-performing environments, this person realized that many around them had been divorced multiple times, had strained relationships with their children, and delayed prioritizing their health until much later in life, if at all.

There were nodding heads around the room. Moments earlier, everyone in the room had been sharing stories about relational rituals, games, laughter, and presence. Through a certain lens, the message aligned. Investing in relationships and shared experiences can absolutely be massive health investments.

And yet, something subtle was happening.

The moment comparison entered the frame, so did hierarchy. Not explicitly. Not maliciously. But implicitly. When values are explained primarily by contrasting them with someone else’s outcomes, we begin to moralize decision trees we do not fully understand. Divorce becomes evidence. Distance from children becomes a verdict. Delayed attention to health becomes a failure, rather than a data point inside a much larger, largely unseen story.

This is not a judgment of the influencer. I have no idea what shaped their worldview, what experiences informed their lens, or what trade-offs they navigated along the way. There may be aspects of their identity, history, or environment where contrast itself is a deeply earned organizing principle. That, too, deserves respect.

I am not absolving anyone of truly egregious harm. Context does not excuse cruelty. But lack of context does complicate judgment, and complication is often where humility belongs.

In hindsight, the influencer could have framed their perspective differently. They could have said, “After years in certain professional environments, I established a priority hierarchy that works for me, that I can stand behind, and that aligns with the person I hope to become.” No comparison. No contrast. No implied ranking. Just a clear statement of values and a personal lens.

But even as I write this, I recognize the irony. Calling attention to this framing invites scrutiny of my own. I am not immune to the same pattern. None of us are.

Which brings me to a simple litmus test I now try to hold when reflecting publicly, especially on values, health, and success:

Contrast can clarify. It can also conceal. Used carefully, it helps us articulate who we are becoming. Used casually, it turns complex human lives into cautionary tales.

The work, I’m learning, is not to eliminate contrast, but to carry it with restraint. To remember that behind every visible outcome is an invisible story. And that the moment we forget that, we are no longer exploring values. We are enforcing them.

Ryan Travis Woods